


The Real Story

by TheEloquentDecadent



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dom Braedan, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Shibari, Slight objectification, Sub Jackson, Vaginal Sex, brief mention of canon-typical violence, switch derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 15:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5790106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEloquentDecadent/pseuds/TheEloquentDecadent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday to my beloved Bibi, who is determined to make this ship a thing even more than I am and is encouraging me in my depravity.</p><p>TW: Contains mentions of Jackson hurting Braeden while under the influence of wolfsbane. It's brief, and vague, but if this is going to trigger you, please do not read this.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Real Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpookyBibi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyBibi/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my beloved Bibi, who is determined to make this ship a thing even more than I am and is encouraging me in my depravity.
> 
> TW: Contains mentions of Jackson hurting Braeden while under the influence of wolfsbane. It's brief, and vague, but if this is going to trigger you, please do not read this.

Derek comes home from work to find Braeden back from her latest job, already settled into her favorite armchair. Her feet are propped up, and she's reading something from his bookshelf, looking the epitome of relaxed.

"Hey, you're back early." He crosses the room to kiss her, and she holds him down for a long moment. "It's good to have you home."

"I figured my boys need me, so I wrapped everything up as soon as I could." Braeden shifts her feet, and a moan fills the air.

Derek looks down at Jackson, back arched so prettily under Braeden's boots.

"I don't know what we'd do without you," he says, his smile brief but fond. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Water, would be lovely." Braeden looks down at her boy. "Two glasses, one with a straw."

"Your wish is my command." Derek kisses her one more time. "I'm not playing tonight, not since I'm still not fully healed from that manticore bullshit, but I'd love to enjoy the view."

"You've got it, gorgeous."

(Jackson can just barely feel the slap on his ass, but he _definitely_ feels when Derek tugs a little on his humbler. It's hard to contain his moans by now, and even harder to keep his cry of pain in his throat.

His cock aches, his balls ache, but the shooting pain behind his eyes has gone away for now.

Braeden lowers a hand to rub his side, soothing him, and it all goes quiet again.)

…

Jackson is hanging from the ceiling, trusting in Braeden's welding and Derek's knot-tying. The ropes wrap almost every inch of his body, knots pressing deliciously into sweet spots he didn't know existed. There's a smaller, softer rope cradling his cock to his body, tiny knots rubbing beneath the head until he's dripping and rutting against air.

Derek rubs him down, pressing the ropes into his body and heightening his arousal.

"That's it, baby," Derek says, and Jackson would bristle at the pet name if he didn't feel so _small_. "That's it, just breathe for me. Color?"

"Green," Jackson whispers, not bothering to open his eyes to see Derek's face.

"Good, that's good." Derek tilts him up some so he can kiss him. "You're doing so well."

_He's doing well, Derek is happy, Jackson is good, he's good and small and doing so well._

"Just breathe, Jacks, I've got you."

Jackson is literally floating, suspended by metal and chain and rope and Derek's hands on his body, his brain deliciously foggy. He can't help but moan into the next kiss, hips twitching against nothing as the ropes pull and shift.

(It's been years since Jackson came home, years since they started this unorthodox relationship.

Derek can't believe how this beautiful man came into his life not once but twice, how even with all his baggage he trusts him with this.

It's easy as breathing to soothe Jackson's sobs as he unties the cock rope and lets him come. Derek holds the back of his neck and his cock and Jackson comes and comes and Derek still can't quite believe it.)

…

Jackson is on the phone with work, and Braeden watches as he tenses up, knots forming almost before her eyes. She doesn't have super hearing, but she doesn't need it to tell Jackson will need her when the asshole on the other end gets through.

She watches him resist the urge to throw the phone against the wall, and she's proud of the deep breaths he takes as he walks over to her and drops to his knees.

"Please," he rasps, already pulling off his tie and jacket. "Please, I need-- please."

"Yes," Braeden says. No use beating around the bush when she would give this boy the world. She runs her fingers through his hair, dragging her nails across his head until he shivers. "Clothes off or on, pet?"

"On? I don't… I don't need… I just need…" Jackson huffs, hiding his face against her thigh. "Please?"

"I understand, love." Braeden keeps petting as he calms down, waiting for some of the tension to release from his neck. "I'm going to lie on the couch, rest my feet. I want you to kneel next to me so I can touch you, and then I think I'll have you rub my feet. Good?"

He nods miserably into her leg, still strung tight from work. She'll get him down, though. She always gets him down.

(Derek comes in later and peels off his shirt, kneeling by Braeden's side as Jackson rubs her feet. She cards her fingers through his hair and marvels at how lucky she is to have her boys.

It's easy to forget just how broken they are during the day, mask on in the form of suit or uniform, but here… Here, she knows the truth.

Sometimes all they need is her attention, her love, her command, but she'd give them the world.)

…

"C'mon, Brae, please? Please, please, let me come, I'm begging." Jackson drops to his knees at her feet, barely restraining himself. "I'll… I'll hump a pillow like your birthday last year. I'll rut against your leg. Just, _please_."

Derek turns up the remote on Jackson's vibrating anal beads (a personal favorite) and smirks.

"I'm in charge today, remember? Any begging will have to convince me, and I'm not feeling very convinced."

Jackson crawls over to him, very aware of how beautiful the angle is with his rippling shoulders and back. He settles between Derek's legs with some difficulty and leans in to nuzzle at Derek's bulge.

Like this, Jackson submitting so obviously, the instincts are at the forefront, and the little shit plays it to his advantage. He tilts his head to expose his neck and whines prettily.

"Please? Let me suck your cock, I'd be so good at it. You _know_ I'm good at it, just please let me come."

Derek pretends to think about it before he tugs his sweats down to free his cock. Jackson's eyes follow it eagerly as Derek strokes it, face calm.

"You'll suck my cock, and then I'll decide if you get to come," he says after a moment, fucking up into his hand as he teases Jackson. "I'll fuck your throat, and you may get to jack yourself off."

Jackson nods eagerly, leaning in to wrap his lips around the head of Derek's cock, laving his tongue over the slit and sinking down with eyes rolled back.

(Derek tastes so good, he always tastes so good, like earth and salt and _pack_ , like skin and sweat and _home_. Jackson doesn't choke on him, hasn't choked on cock since high school, but he wishes he could, wishes Derek could just _make_ a space for himself.

He comes with Derek's cum in his mouth and the anal beads set to high, sobbing into Derek's thigh as Braeden rubs his back.)

…

Braeden's eyes roll back as Derek sucks on her clit, tongue flicking over the tip just enough to keep her on edge. Jackson is tucked deep inside her, whining every time she clenches around his thick, needy cock.

"Oh, good boy, Derek, fuck." She tightens her grip on his hair and Derek groans against her. It rumbles through her and into Jackson, his hips twitching like he could bury himself further. "Fuck, I'm close."

Derek pulls back a little, eyes black and beard wet with her arousal. "Want to come this time? Or do you want Jackson to fuck you into it?"

"I want to come this time, then I want him to fuck you, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Derek returns to the task at hand, pressing down on her pubic bone with one hand and holding Jackson still with the other.

Braeden comes hard and sharp, gaze whiting out as her boys do what they do best-- take care of her.

(Derek has done his best to learn how to please her, how to make her come the hardest, and his fastest time is better than Jackson's any day. He gentles her through it before he sucks marks into the pale skin of Jackson's thighs.

_Mine. Both mine, all mine._

_And I'm theirs._ )

…

Jackson has been acting up on purpose, so Braeden popped him into the corner with their thickest cock ring on and a prostate vibe snugged up against his aching sweet spot. He's hard as nails, but he doesn't want to apologize, orgasm or no.

He's left to listen to Derek taking his weekly penance, arms tied to the ring in the ceiling and feet spread on the spreader bar. He can't see anything, but he's watched enough to know.

A hitch in Derek's breathing means Braeden has picked up the whip, and the first crack makes Jackson's cock twitch painfully. The second, third, fourth all cause the same reaction, until Jackson feels like sobbing into his arms and humping the brick, pain be damned.

Derek doesn't make a noise until the fifth, the bull whip drawing a sob out of him. Jackson hears Braeden set the whip down, and soft kissing sounds.

"That's five. Two for warm up, and three for discipline. Ready to tell me what happened this week?"

The chains rattle as Derek nods, arching into her touch.

"Sn-snapped at Scott for no reason. Hurt Erica during training. Came without asking in the shower yesterday morning. Fucked Jackson even thought I was subbing and you didn't say I could."

"Three each for Scott and Erica, two each for coming and fucking." The whip gets picked up again. "That's ten. Color?"

"Green."

(With each stroke, the pain goes away and bliss remains. He's sorry, and she knows it, and he's making up for what he did wrong. Derek knows he's fucked up, but who gives a shit.

Repentance feels too good to give it up. He comes on the tenth stroke, the end of the tail curling around to just hit his pubic bone a little.

When he wakes up, he's curled up between Braeden and a still-hard Jackson in their big bed, achey and perfect all at the same time.)

…

The moon is out, and Jackson is out of control. It doesn't happen often anymore, not with him grounded by his people and his pack, but even the strongest anchor can't keep someone like Jackson down with aconite in the air.

Braeden ends up tasing him so they can handle the threat and get him the fuck home, packing him into the SUV and tearing out of the woods like a bat out of hell. It's hard to focus on driving with her boy in pain in the backseat, but Braeden isn't the best in her field for nothing.

They get Jackson home and up to the loft before he wakes, but he wakes feral and bloodthirsty.

"Stay out of the way," Derek yells, shoving Braeden to the side as Jackson springs forward. "I'll heal, you won't."

The taser is in the car, and her baton is under the bed. She could kill him easily with what she's currently packing, but that's the thing-- she doesn't want to hurt him.

Before she can try another tactic, Jackson is tearing past Derek and reaching for her, claws out.

(Jackson wakes at the iron-sharp tang of his mate's blood, to slick claws and confusion.

Horrified, he pulls away, dropping her into Derek's arms and scuttling to the furthest corner of the apartment.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, staring at his claws. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Braeden waits for Derek to clean her wounds before she goes to him in the corner, carding her hands through his hair, touching him gently.

"I know, baby. We're okay."

"I'm so sorry.")

…

Jackson wakes on the floor of the loft, curled under the dining table away from Braeden's earlier reassurance, aconite still sharp in his nose.

Braeden approaches the table, wrapped in her big fluffy robe and smelling of home and blood and pain and _love_.

"Hey, baby boy. Ready to come out?"

…

Derek winces as he watches the bullwhip come down on Jackson's back, but Jackson's relieved sob tells the real story.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my writing and my taste in porn on tumblr [here.](theeloquentdecadent.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, if I missed a tag, let me know.


End file.
